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There's one dish on the menu at NYC's newly reopened Dirt Candy that recently caught the attention of several Bon Appétit staffers: the Korean fried broccoli. The deep-fried broccoli bites are coated in an addictive spicy sauce that gets its deep, piquant flavor from gochujang, the Korean fermented chile paste.
"I wanted this snack to be a great, big, savory flavor bomb," chef Amanda Cohen told BA. "That's gochujang all over because it's got such a huge garlicky, spicy, fermented taste that holds its own with fried broccoli."
Gochujang is a thick, crimson paste made from chile peppers, glutinous rice (also known as sticky rice), fermented soybeans, and salt. The chile peppers provide a healthy amount of lingering heat that's not burn-your-mouth spicy; the sticky rice brings a touch of sweetness that's sometimes enhanced by added sugar; and the fermented soybeans act as the miso-like ingredient that anchors gochujang's "umami" flavor. But "umami bomb sells it way short," says Matt Rodbard, the author of Koreatown: A Cookbook, which will be published by Clarkson Potter next February. Rodbard describes gochujang's flavor as having "funkiness, spice (sometimes a CRAZY amount of spice), and sweetness on the backend."
Gochujang isn't meant to be used as a finishing sauce like sriracha or Tabasco—it's too aggressive. And although it goes into many traditional Korean dishes, it's hardly ever used plain for the same reason. "It must be cut with something (sesame oil, crushed garlic, sugar, soy sauce), which is where the problem starts with novice chefs cooking with it," Rodbard says. Gochujang's sweet-hot-salty flavor truly shines when it's used by the spoonful to add depth to stews and marinades for meat dishes like spicy bulgogi. The Korean meat-and-veg rice bowls known as bibimbap always come with a side of gochujang-based sauce for mixing into the bowl. And Korean barbecue joints will often serve a sauce called ssam jang that includes gochujang and doenjang, another essential Korean fermented soybean paste.
Chefs are increasingly finding that gochujang's earthy spice pairs well with foods that are already popular in America—think grilled steak, tacos, and burgers.
"You don’t see a lot of Korean restaurants opening up all over the country," says chef Edward Lee, the Korean-born chef and owner of Louisville's 610 Magnolia and MilkWood. "They're very difficult to set up and are just not very economical as a business. So what you’re seeing instead is an explosion of traditional Korean ingredients through chefs and foodies who are using them in really nonconventional ways."
At his restaurants, Lee uses gochujang to riff on familiar foods in the American (and particularly Southern) diet. Lee swears by his gochujang butter—blended with honey, fish sauce, and soy sauce—over a simple grilled steak. And at MilkWood, he serves a popular collard greens dish cooked with gochujang and kimchi.
One reason for gochujang's burgeoning popularity is that it can easily piggy-back on already-popular, recognized flavors like barbecue sauce.
"You can take a very approachable product like ribs and give them a Korean twist and a certain level of authenticity," says Dean Small, the president and founder of Synergy Restaurant Consultants in California. "Same goes for pizza. If you can put barbecue chicken on it, could you not use a gochujang barbecue sauce?"
Small, who works with national chains and independent restaurants, says he's noticed an uptick in clients who have expressed interest in incorporating gochujang into their menus in the past three years.
Even Umami Burger, the California-based fast-casual burger chain with locations in New York, Las Vegas, and Chicago, is getting in on the gochujang craze. When the chain opened its newest location in Brooklyn's Williamsburg neighborhood two weeks ago, it also debuted a new burger inspired by the flavors of Korean barbecue. The K-BBQ burger is glazed with a reduction of gochujang and Sierra Mist, then topped with both caramelized and fresh kimchi, as well as a homemade gochujang ketchup.
"When you have gochujang on a burger, it brings about a smoky intenseness you can only get from that Korean funk," says Umami Burger's executive chef Ted Hopson.
Small thinks gochujang has a long life ahead of it within the American food landscape, and he predicts we'll begin seeing it on more menus across the country in the coming years—and not just at of-the-moment restaurants like Dirt Candy. Small says gochujang, like its spicy predecessors—chipotle, ghost peppers, and sriracha—is likely headed for the chicken wings at your local Applebee's or Buffalo Wild Wings, although it might not show up on the menu as "gochujang-glazed chicken wings."
We're already seeing Western-friendly naming conventions for dishes like Umami's "K-BBQ" burger and Dirt Candy's "Korean" fried broccoli. "I didn't want to have another word on my menu that customers won't understand so I don't list it," Cohen says.
"If people can’t pronounce it, they oftentimes will not order it because they don’t want to feel ignorant or embarrassed," Small says. "So mainstream operators [like Applebee's] may just find themselves calling it something else, like 'Spicy Korean Wings.'"
You can find gochujang paste at any Korean market, where it's commonly sold in small, red square tubs. (Commercial brands come in varying heat levels, so check the package before purchasing.) Add a teaspoonful at a time to add complexity and a little heat to your favorite soups and marinades, or stir it into dressings like the one in our Steakhouse Salad with Red Chile Dressing and Peanuts recipe.
Edward Lee has seen diners react so positively to gochujang's unique flavor that last year he agreed to consult on a new gochujang paste from the popular Korean food brand Chung Jung One that's specifically marketed to Americans and comes in a convenient squeeze bottle. The idea is to get gochujang into the pantries of Western home cooks who might not have tried or cooked with it before, versus cooks who already prepare Korean food, who have to use it. (And if Momofuku's new bottled, gochujang-based sauce is any indication, David Chang is thinking the same thing.)
"There was a time when Asian food was considered ‘foreign' or 'other' and now you see people saying, 'I want to put this on my Totino's stuffed pizza rolls,'" Lee says.